Remember Me
by SlightObsessionnn
Summary: What happens when Sherlock is run over and forgets every year he spent with John. How till John take it? Will he abandon the man, or help him become his best friend again? Johnlock. BOYXBOY
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N: Well, hello! _**

**_This is a johnlock fanfic i came up with, i hope you all like it :D Im currently looking for someone to beta it, so message me on here if you are interested :D _**

**_Please review as i live off them. Im planning for this to be about 10 chapters long and im about to start on the next one._**

**_I hope you all like it :D_**

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What to do?

Sherlock and I were on a case that had gone horribly wrong, horribly horribly wrong and now Sherlock was in hospital.

We were running after Leon Warrington, a man who had killed 3 blond haired women when Sherlock ran out into the road, being stupid and didn't look. 10 seconds later, he was on the road and his blood on the front of a cab.

It was just like when he fell. Blood, there was blood everywhere, coming from his head, from his chin and he was out cold.

No,

No it was worse than the fall, because this time, he was actually hurt. I knew it was him, he wouldn't fake his death twice, would he? He wouldn't leave me again. No, he couldn't leave me again.

Sherlock, don't you dare die.

You left me once, for two years. They were the worst years, worse than the ones spent at war, because Sherlock, I had grown to love you. During those many days we spent chasing people, the days where you would play your violin for me and the ones were we spent just together-sitting in silence, observing each other. Yes, I had grown to love you. Every side of you, your arrogant side, your ignorant side and your blunt side. Your soft side, your caring side and the other side of you that I was the only one who saw. Yes you bloody idiot, you turned me into a softie.

When you was gone, I had this…this inner Sherlock. I would do something and your voice would tell me whether I was being stupid or observant. Of course I knew it wasn't you but it felt like it. It's what kept me sane every day, every day until I met Mary. When I met Mary, your voice started dissapering in my head, I clung onto it with every fibre of my being but I knew I had to move on. You were supposedly dead and I had Mary. So I projected all my love I had for you, towards Mary- eventually I managed to kid myself that I did love her and decided I wanted to marry her, but of course, you turned up Sherlock and ruined everything.

You confused it all, all of it. I had a plan Sherlock, and you come waltzing back into my life pretending that everything was going to be okay. Maybe it will be okay, only time will tell. All these feelings came rushing back, but of course I couldn't leave Mary- it wouldn't of been fair. I carried on loving Mary, but I also carried on loving you. Two parallels of love divided me, one for a woman, one for a man, but then again, you two are more alike than I originally thought. Don't get me wrong, im not gay- you just sorted of fitted into your own category, but that's what you are Sherlock, isn't it? You are your own category- you bloody made up a job to be in your own category.

Time passed and my feelings for you died down some- they'll never fully go, no, but I have Mary so it will be fine.

I remember once, that you said you were incapable of being loved, incapable of loving-but that's not quite true. You loved Mrs Hudson, hell you nearly killed a bloke because he touched a hair on her head. You committed suicide to save three lives Sherlock, one of them-you can't even remember his first bloody name! You do Sherlock, you do feel love.

I love you. Still, after all these years, I still love you. I hope you know that Sherlock, you probably do. You probably deduced it, dilated pupils, sweaty palms, hitched and heavy breath whenever you were near, yeah…you probably know.

I hope, I hope that when you get out of this coma, you will remember.

The doctors said you have a 50% chance that you wont.

If you don't, if you go back to being the old Sherlock, the one who didn't feel, then I hope you know you were…are loved Sherlock, even if I have to tell you myself.

I look up from my thinking space as Mycroft enters the room,

''did the doctors say anything?'' I furrow my brow as the ginger haired man walks over to me. I stand up so I feel less intimidated.

''They're going to wake him up now. I'll go…he has no care for me, you, John should be here.'' He turns to leave as I nod my head, but I remember something I need to ask of him.

''Uh, Mycroft, can you tell Mary to come in here please?'' I say as I sit back down.

I see a nod of head as the door closes, it re-opens a few moments later.

''John? What have the doctors said?'' Mary pushes a few loose blonde strands out of her face as she walks over to me.

''They're going to wake him up. I think im going to stay at Baker street for a bit, knowing Sherlock, he'll be an idiot and want to do stuff straight away and someone needs to be there for him, would you mind going home and getting some of my stuff for me, just two weeks' worth is all I need.''

''Of course John. I love you.'' she said as she smiled down at me, running her hands through the hair at the tuft of my neck.

''I love you too.'' I smiled up at her. This façade dropped when she left the room. There was hardly any truth in the words I just said, some, but not much. Everyday life was starting to bore me, I missed the action, the thrill, the matter of life and death hanging in my hands, I missed living with Sherlock, and now I looked forward to these two years more than I did than returning to my home.

But I am returning to my home, Baker Street is my home. My soft yet firm double bed in my bedroom that had hardly any belongings in, that dusty front room with the yellow smiley face sprayed on the wall with bullet holes through, the experiments and the fingers in the fridge-that's my home-not the modern double bedroom house I share with Mary, that's not my home.

I had spent the last two weeks sitting by the induced coma-struck Sherlock, creating different scenarios of what would happen when he awoke and now he was finally going to wake up. I started feeling nervous, why would I feel like this? Just because my friend was waking up, im an ex soldier, why am I nervous at this?

I shook my head and used this last moment of peace to take Sherlock's hand for the last time. I had been doing that a lot for the past week…it was comforting. Every so often I could just move my fingers and check his pulse so I knew he was still with me…us.

His hand fitted into mine, like it belonged there…but I knew it didn't. He was asexual-married to his work as he says-yet sometimes, I had a gnawing feeling that, that wasn't true. Sometimes I would just catch him looking at me, I would feel his eyes burn into the back of my skull, his gaze would be so intense when I would turn to look at him, I would doubt it. I would also doubt it when I would go to sleep at night with my door fully closed, but it would be open the next morning. Sherlock would never shut a door fully. The small gestures, the milk buying when I was angry at him, him trying to please me when he knew he had pissed me off. Those were the times I doubted it.

Plus there was the woman but let's not divulge into that subject, she's a…pressure point as Magnussen would say.

I heard the door open and instantly took back my hand and placed it in my lap, it was the doctor with the serum to wake up Sherlock. I nodded at him as he walked around to Sherlock's right arm and he the Asian looking doctor spoke,

''it could take a few minutes to a couple of hours before he awakes. When he does, he'll be a bit confused as to where he is but as he knows you so well, I'm sure he will be fine.'' Dr Grona smiled at me and injected Sherlock. It made me flinch as Sherlock's skin was pierced, that's how he use to do his drugs-by injection.

The doctor injected all the serum, wiped away the blood and smiled at me before turning away and leaving the room.

Anticipation grew inside me Never had I not spoken to Sherlock for so long in a long time. Even on my honeymoon he still texted me. I longed to feel his hand in mine but I knew I had no place anymore to do that-I shouldn't of anyway, taking advantage of an unconscious man, it was wrong yet I had done it anyway.

I knew with Sherlock that it would only take him a few minutes to arise, I knew his mind would want to get into action straight away…

I was correct.

It hadn't been two minutes before I saw his eyes moving underneath his eyelids,

''Sherlock?'' I said, in case he need something to wake him up.

At the mention of his name, his eyes snapped open. His eyes scanned the room, deducing where he was, when they landed on me..

''Sherlock.'' I smiled up at him.

I saw the edge of his lips turn up at me, before he raised his eyebrow and muttered the words,

''and you are?''

I blinked, it had happened, he had forgotten. He had forgotten years of his past, seven or more of them.

I felt everything inside me fall, I felt dizzy but I couldn't feel ill, not here, not now. I needed to be his friend again. I shook my head, trying to get rid of the racing thoughts from my head.

''Im John Hamish Watson, you're called William Sherlock Scott Holmes. It's the year 2015 and you're aged 38. Im your best friend. This is how im going to prove im your best friend. I know you're clever and brilliant. You use the science of deduction, you see and you observe. You live at 221B Baker Street with Mrs Hudson. You have a brother called Mycroft and you're parents live in the countryside, they're different from what I expected. When you was twelve, you ran away from home-you never told me why. You walk around the flat in your sheet, you eat every few days, your room has barely any items in it and before me, you had a skull as your friend. 3 years ago, you jumped off the roof of St Bart's because you wanted to save the lives of me, Mrs Hudson and detective inspector lestrade. You keep your socks in the top left draw and you hate it when I watch Tv in the room. You were able to figure out about my sister and her marriage problems as soon as we met, you usually annoy people with your deductions but not me, never me because I am your best friend.'' I finally release my breath I hadn't realised I was holding. I _know_ Sherlock, im glad I said all of that, so I don't need to try and persuade him anymore.''

Sherlock looked down at me, I knew he was deducing,

''hmmm…'' he squinted his eyes, ''when can I go home…John.''

I blinked, was he not going to say anything? How could he not say anything about that?

''um, i…I'll find out for you.'' I shook my head and got up, finding the nearest nurse outside the room.

I couldn't wrap my head around it all…I don't know what he's going to be like now and that's what I found most difficult.

What if he didn't want to be my friend again.

Fuck Sherlock.

I needed to sit down.


	2. Those few minutes before

_**A/N: Here is the second installment of Remember Me. I still haven't got a BETA :( if anyone would like to be my Beta, then feel free to inbox me. **_

_**Please review, i live of them :D**_

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''Welcome home Sherlock.'' I say to the man as we pull up outside 221B. I pay the cab driver and we walk to the door.

He didn't say anything, he just followed me inside and followed me upstairs, holding his bag.

I had been home the previous day and unpacked my stuff in my room. I realised I hadn't told him yet that I was staying here.

We walked into the front room and he dumped his bag down and went and sat in his chair, I followed suit, sitting opposite him.

I felt uncomfortable as he stared at me from his char, his head rest on his triangle shaped hands. Every so often, he would tilt his head a fraction or two, as if he was figuring things out. It much of been a good half an hour or so before he spoke,

''so…John, you're married yet you choose to stay here with me, why?'' he raised his eyebrow slightly.

I wanted to laugh, my sherlock would of known, but this one, of course he wouldn't know.

''because you are my friend, Sherlock.''

''was.'' He said plainly.

''Sorry?'' I asked.

''Was your friend.'' He blinked a few times when he said the word 'friend'.

Oh, well…he's right. ''right...right well, uh. Is there anything you want to know?'' I asked, surely there must be something.

He took a deep intake of breath, his eyes never leaving mine. They were a light blue today.

''How did I come about knowing you? I can deduce now, but I can't deduce present tense.''

I half smiled, remembering the memory well. Who knew that, that walk in the park would change my life?

''well, im not sure if you remember Mike Stamford?'' I waited for response, it was a nod, ''well he was an old friend of mine. I ran into him in the park, he knew I was out in Afghanistan and I told him I got shot. I was looking for a place when he told me he knew someone who was looking for a flatmate, so he introduced me to you. You were able to deduce what happened to me, even cure my sematic limp that night.'' I smiled smally, I would never be able to repay him for that, who knows whether I would still have it if I hadn't of met him.

''hmm…'' he left it and carried on thinking.

Wait, I have a question, ''Sherlock?''

He looked up from his thinking space, ''yes?''

''what was the last thing you remember?''

Sherlock paused for a minute, ''talking to Mike Stamford about needing a flatmate.'' He half smiled.

I inwardly winced, I was right. Everything about me was deleted from his life, a mere few hours before he met me was the last thing he remembers.

I needed to find out who was behind the wheel of that cab.

I looked at the time, it was coming up to 9.30, he wouldn't eat unless I made him.

I got up out of my chair, ''what do you want for dinner?'' I asked as I started rummaging through the cupboards for anything interesting-looks like Sherlock hadn't gone shopping in a long time.

''Im fine.'' Sherlock waved me off.

''no, Sherlock you need to eat.'' I got out a Chinese menu and rung the number it had on the leaflet, I ordered Sherlock's and mines favourite.

I sat back down and started reading the paper, when sherlock spoke up again,

''what are you still doing here anyways? Shouldn't you be getting home to your…hus-''

''wife.'' I cut him off. Fucking hell Sherlock, that's the ONLY thing your noticing.

Hopefully he cant tell.

''Well…im staying here until you're okay. Knowing you, you'd be an idiot and go out on a case tomorrow if you had the chance.'' I half smiled at him, laughing to myself.

''right, so, im still a consulting detective?''

''yes.''

''still the only one in the world?''

Of course you would want to know about that, I shook my head in response.

''who else has the job title then?'' he frowned.

''I do.'' I said bluntly, ''we use to do it together.''

Sherlock's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, ''you must of felt something for me, otherwise I wouldn't of let you join me.''

I nodded.

We sat in silence until the Chinese came, I paid the man and served it up on a plate.

''how did you know what I like?'' he asked as he looked down at his plate.

''5 years…'' was all I replied.

All these emotions started to build up, I had to eat my food in my room, being in the same room as him was too much at the moment. Keeping up a plain façade was taking all of my strength. That's the negative about living with a sociopath who could read anyone like a book.

''im going to eat this in my room, I have stuff to sort out.'' I nodded at him and turned away, my laptop was already sitting on my bed.

''goodnight…John. Thankyou.'' Was all I heard, it made me freeze in my tracks.

''goodnight Sherlock.'' was my response and I went up to my room.

I released my breath as I sat down on my bed, setting my plate on the bedside table, I wasn't even that hungry, I just wanted Sherlock to eat. I opened got out my phone and texted lestrade,

'**Sherlock is out of hospital, he doesn't remember the last 5 years.**

**Hospital said there is a 50% chance that he wont remember. **

**It will increase the more he wants to remember.**

**Now, how can we find the bastard who ran him over?**

**John**.'

I pressed sent and opened my laptop and proceeded to facetime Mary to fill her in, I waited for about 8 rings before she picked up.

''how is he John?'' she asked, she looked a bit flustered.

''he's…okay. He cant remember the last 5 years of his life.'' I frowned, I looked down, so she wouldn't see how im really feeling.

''oh im sorry John, if he doesn't remember, why don't you show him your blog?''

''maybe, it's just down to Sherlock, whether he wants to remember or not. The doctors said that he chances of him remembering will increase the more he wants to remember.''

''hmm…'' she frowned, ''I don't see why someone like Sherlock wouldn't want to remember, he thrives of knowledge.''

''I know…'' I smiled at her.

Sometimes I really don't give Mary enough credit, I wish I could love her as much as I loved…him.

''Anyways, I better go John, Sue is coming round. I love you.'' she smiled at me.

''Love you too.'' I smiled and pressed the disconnect button.

I suppose the words have some truth in them.

I ate some of my food and checked for a reply from Greg, but I had nothing yet. I didn't know what to do with myself, I didn't want to dwell on the emotions I was experiencing, it was all too much. I didn't want to think about myself at the moment, it hurt, yes, but I needed to think of Sherlock and make sure he got better and didn't do something stupid like go on a case. I placed the plate with most of the food back on the bedside table and got undressed so I was just in my boxers and slipped under the covers.

Many nights I use to lie here, creating up scenarios that I know would never happen, where I would try and ignore my half hard because the thought of him interrupting me would be too much. The nights where I wish he would be lying next to me, holding me during my nightmares, comforting me. But he never would, and now he never will.

Bloody hell I'm such a soppy idiot.

As I lie here now, facing the peeling celling, I start thinking of ideas to get Sherlock to remember the last 5 years. I think I will show him my blog, yes that would be a good idea. I can show him pictures of the wedding and just tell him what he was like, maybe I can get Mycroft to send us some old CCTV footage of us in action, because right now, I don't think he's all too convinced that we were as close as we were.

That's the thing, where we close?

He knew most things about me, my habits, my past, my present and my future somehow. He knew my next actions, what I would do next and what consequences would be if I done something. I didn't know much about him. I only knew current things about him, his habits now, his food choices and how he reacts, he never told me why he ran away.

Maybe I should ask Mycroft as to why Sherlock ran away? No. it wouldn't be fair on Sherlock, even if he did become a different…person.

These thoughts made me feel worse, the thing is, I realise I didn't _know _him as much as I thought. He was my best friend, yes, but did he consider me as a best friend? He said I was his friend but was the caring and emotion all one sided? I need to know but now I might never know.

I needed to stop dwelling on all of this and go to sleep. So I turned onto my left side and shut my eyes, his car accident replaying in my mind, his head hitting the floor, that one knocking, changing us for a long, long time.

God help me Sherlock, god help me.


	3. Who?

_**A/N: Hey Guys! so this is chapter 3!**_

_**I finally have a beta by the way so i'll be editing these chapters!**_

_**Please rate and review!**_

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I rubbed my eyes as I stretched out my legs, last night was one of my worst nights-the dreams where worst, they were combination of the fall and him running over. They were intertwining, leaving a 40 something man crying in a ball on his bed. Hopefully Sherlock didn't hear me, he would ask questions, he wouldn't leave it like usual.

I looked over at my phone and switched it on, Greg had replied.

**'Going over CCTV footage later, feel free to drop in later and we will go over it.**

**Greg.**'

Hopefully we can catch the bastard who run him over, yes, that was what I needed today.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and ran my hands down my face, I slipped into some clothes and made my way downstairs.

''John?'' was all Sherlock said as I walked into the kitchen.

Sherlock was standing by the window, looking out into the street. He had his silk dressing gown on and I could see the bottom of his pj bottoms. His hair was ruffled and his violin in his right hand, the bow in his left.

''Yes Sherlock?''

I tapped down the button on the kettle so it could boil and started making us both a cup of tea.

''What were your nightmares about?''

I froze as he spoke the words, dropping the tea bags onto the counter.

''you…heard me?'' I blinked a few times so get the blurriness out of my eyes.

''yes.''

''They were about…nothing . Nothing to worry about anyways.'' I carried on making the tea's, hoping he wasn't deducing that I just lied.

He turned around on the spot and placed the violin and bow down, ''if you say so John.'' He replied, and flopped down on the sofa, forming the praying shape under his head and closed his eyes. He was going into his mind palace.

I wonder if he has tried to remember in his mind palace, any memories he has stored, surely there has to be one.

''Sherlock?''

The sound of my voice seemed to pull him out of his mind palace,

''yes?''

''have you…searched in your mind palace? To see if you stored any memories in there?''

''no…I haven't.'' he raised an eyebrow and watched me place his tea down and walked over to my arm chair and sat down.

He closed his eyes I could see his eyes moving underneath his eyelids, his head would twitch ever so slightly-I knew he was searching, but by the look on his face, he was getting frustrated.

I inwardly groaned and sipped on my tea as I saw him open his eyes, something flashed across them but he quickly composed himself and sat up.

''Anything?''

He shook his head and rested his elbows on his knees.

I felt frustration building up inside me, did he even want to remember? God Sherlock you can be such a cock sometimes.

''Do you want to remember?'' it accidently slipped out, I guess the frustration got too much.

''what do you mean by that?'' he raised an eyebrow.

''God Sherlock, nothing. I'm going out.'' I put down my mug a little harshly and got up, grabbing my coat.

I got out into the street and stuck out my hand, I didn't trust cabs, not anymore, but I needed some way of getting to Scotland Yard without having to call Mycroft and asking if he could get me there. It was too far to walk and I didn't want to get on a bus with younger loud generations.

It took me 5 minutes to hail a cab, and during those five minutes, I refused to meet the eyes which were boring holes into the back of my head from 221B.

I soon arrived at Scotland Yard and was greeted by Donovan,

''the freak has forgotten you has he? Im not surprised.'' She smirked at me as I past her. My anger from earlier was starting to boil over again, but I took a few deep breaths and entered Scotland yard, making my way over to Greg's office.

''Ah John, you came. Didn't you bring Sherlock with you?'' he raised a eyebrow.

''no, I left him at home. Bastard was getting on my nerves. Anyway, have you got the CCTV footage?'' I sat down in the chair opposite him.

''Yes, I obtained it from the camera's, but turns out Mycroft was able to give us some extra footage from inside shops, we haven't had a look yet, we thought it best we wait for you.'' Greg turned the computer screen around and started playing some of the footage.

I flinched as I watched Sherlock get run over, getting momentarily distracted by trying not to call out Sherlock's name. Luckily, there was nothing we could get from that tape as the footage was blurry.

''Lets try another from across the street.'' Greg frowned and pressed play, I could see immediately that this footage was a lot clearer.

This time, I tried to ignore the fact that Sherlock was getting run over and focused on the cab. We could only see the first 4 digits of his number plate. I quickly noted them down and carried on watching. We figured out that the cabbie was of a male sex and had bright blonde hair but that's all we can see from every footage we tried.

''Let me run this half of the number plate through the system and see if any cabs come up?'' he turned back his computer screen and started tapping away at the keyboard.

I got out my phone and unlocked it, nothing from Sherlock. Why did I expect one? I knew there wasn't any case's as I was with Lestrade currently, but for some reason, I just expected one.

''I've found 5 cars that start with the same four digits, one of them is a cab, so assuming its that one, we just need to track a location. I've managed to track it down to an abandoned petrol station in Enfield, let's go immediately and see if we can find anything. Should we call Sherlock?'' he said as he started putting on his coat.

I shook my head, ''no, he'll hate me for this if her ever found out, but he cant know about this case. Make sure he doesn't find out somehow.''

''Alright. I'm sure you have picked up on some of his skills…so for now, let it just be us.'' He headed out the door and I followed suit, feeling a slight twinge in my leg.

The car ride was silent. I had nothing to say to lestrade, it was weird not following the police car in a cab with Sherlock by his side. They reached Enfield after 35 minutes of weaving through traffic and they pulled up to the old garage to find it was padlocked shut.

''Who do we call to open this?'' I frowned as I inspected the padlock.

''with this…'' lestrade shut the boot of the car and showed me some pliers.

''why do you carry them in the boot of your car?'' I frowned as he cut open the padlock.

''they're always needed.'' He smirked and pushed open the gates.

We walked in, my hands shoved in my pockets as we walked onto the site, we saw the back of the cab peeping out from behind the small building. I looked at Lestrade, he didn't have the grinning face on that I expected, he face was hard and focused. I noticed his pace started to quicken and I met it, ignoring the twinge that I had previously felt an hour ago.

We turned the corner and found something that we wasn't expecting, the blonde driver of the cab was sitting in the front of the cab leaning forward with a bullet hole through his head.

''I guess this is our guy? I'll call backup.'' Lestrade turned around and put his phone up to his ear and walked a few paces as he started talking down the phone.

I frowned as I went around to the front of the cab, I hadn't seen a gun yet, if Sherlock was here, he would have been able to tell what gun was used by now. I sighed and went round the other side of the can and looked inside the window, there wasn't much, only a few pieces of paper and some empty bottles. It hadn't been suicide because there was no gun in the cab. I looked up from the cab and I followed the trail that the bullet would of followed, there was no high building in front or to the sides, so he was shot from directly in front of him, so the victim got a good look at the killer.

''Greg, can I get a look in the cab?'' I went over to him.

He nodded and handed me some gloves from inside of his jacket and I proceeded to put them on. I made my way back over and pulled on the handle of the cab, weirdly, it was unlocked. I pulled the door open and got the sheets. I spotted a mobile phone, sitting in a cup holder by the gear stick. I took it and pressed the home button, it was also unlocked.

I looked on the texts and they were all from the same number, frowning, I clicked on the last received text:

**'You FAILED. **

**You will pay.**

**Goodbye my old friend**

**;)'**

I frowned and clicked on more of the texts, scrolling through- all of them the same type of messages, threatening instructive ones. There was a number,

Would Sherlock call it?

Or shall we track it first?

No, Sherlock would call it.

I pressed the 'call' button and put the phone half an inch away from my ear and waited as I heard the calling tone, it was 10 seconds later when my heart stopped,

''Whoever you are, what are you doing with this phone?

Oh no don't worry, I will find and burn you.''

I heard the familiar irish accent,

Moriarty.

I cancelled the phone call and rushed over to Greg,

''Greg, its him who's behind this, Moriarty. I found a phone and there were texts from someone on it, I called the number and he picked up.'' I blurted out, wanting to get it out as soon as possible. I inhaled and watched as his face fell, he seemed to age 10 years within that moment.

''What did he say?''

''''whoever you are, what are you doing with this phone? Oh no, don't worry, I will find you and burn you.''

''Okay thanks John, go home and stay in for now, don't let Sherlock go out until we have said its okay for you to come out.''

''Alright.'' This was the last thing we all needed.

I had managed to hail a cab and was back at Baker Street within the hour. How do I explain to Sherlock that he cant go out without having to explain why?

Turns out, I didn't need too.

The first thing he did when I entered the front room was

''you went on a case and I was invited? How come?'' he said from his arm chair.

I sighed and sat down opposite him, ''it was your case Sherlock.''

''My case?'' he shook his head slightly.

''Lestrade and I were working out who ran you over, we managed to track down the car and inside was the guy who ran you over, dead. He was shot through the window of the front of the cab. I found a phone and I found some texts, I called the number and it was Moriarty.''

Sherlock looked at me, reading me, ''Who's Moriarty.''

I blinked, I had forgotten he wouldn't know who Moriarty was,

''Moriarty was…what you could have been. You get called a physcopath, he is a physcopath Sherlock. He kills people in sick, sick ways. He wa-'' as I carried on talking, a thought struck me, why don't I show him my blog? ''I can show you, my blog. After most cases, I would type them up and publish them on my blog. A lot of people enjoyed reading them.''

''go on…''

I got up and picked up my laptop, I quickly switched it on and got up my blog and handed it to him, he started reading when I remembered I needed to tell him something,

''Sherlock, we can't go out of 221B, we might be in danger so we can't leave. Lestrade isn't going to give you cases but I'm sure if you ask, he'll text you the details so you can help over the phone.''

He nodded in response as he scrolled down the page.

I hated the fact that he didn't talk to me anymore, it would probably be better if I was the skull on the mantel piece.

Fucking hell this was going to be difficult.


End file.
